


Psych: Paris Édition

by Honyasbookshelf



Category: Miraculous Ladybug, Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Identity Reveal, Matchmaking, Mystery, POV Burton "Gus" Guster, POV Outsider for MLB, POV Shawn Spencer, Queerplatonic Relationships, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honyasbookshelf/pseuds/Honyasbookshelf
Summary: "Gus gave the fake psychic a baleful look, tsked, then turned on his heel, heading towards the security checkpoint. Shawn's footsteps followed him doggedly. He could not believe his friend would do this!Only yeah, he totally could.Shawn was his best friend, but this was going to be a long five days. Either Shawn was just really bored, or (more likely) he was working an angle and there was something of interest in Paris that Gus wasn't aware of. He just hoped whatever it was didn't come back to bite them too badly. They wouldn't have SBPD backup while out of country, after all."Shawn tags along when Gus travels to Paris for work. Gus is over it all. And Shawn just wants to meet some Parisian superheroes.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, pre-Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer (background)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 45





	1. Is it Espadrilles or Escargot?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm so excited to start posting this story. It started with the ideas of Gus getting akumatized and Shawn figuring out Ladybug and Chat Noir's identities. Somehow, it grew to something much longer and plottier than originally intended, but it's still, at its core, crack. So please don't take this too seriously.
> 
> Enjoy!

Gus strode confidently through the Santa Barbara Municipal Airport, dressed to impress, trailing a well-organized carry-on behind him. This may be a work trip, but it would almost be like a vacation, and he had everything prepared to ensure it was the best trip possible. He had earned it. Despite Shawn's antics—including dragging him out on five separate cases in the past month and misappropriating his company car on at least a dozen occasions—Gus had managed to make top pharmaceutical sales rep this month. He was proud of himself. His boss must have been proud, too. When one of their other reps quit unexpectedly, they had an opening to the Paris Pharmaceuticals Convention, and Gus was being sent as their new representative. He sniffed and thumbed his nose proudly.

Then all his carefully made plans fell apart as he heard loud footsteps approaching quickly from behind him. Oh no, Shawn didn't. . . .

“Gus, don't be a dashing ostrich. Wait for me!”

Gus rounded on his friend, dread and frustration combining into an unpleasant slurry in his belly.

“Shawn, what do you think you're doing here? I'm going to be late for my flight.”

“ _Our_ flight, and no, we're still two hours early.”

“You know how long it takes to get through security. And what do you mean _our_ flight? I'm going to Paris. For work.”

“Gus, Gus, Gus. I know that.” Shawn waved an airplane ticket in Gus's face. “I sensed that you needed me to keep you company. C'mon, it'll be fun.”

Gus gave the fake psychic a baleful look, tsked, then turned on his heel, heading towards the security checkpoint. Shawn's footsteps followed him doggedly. He could not _believe_ his friend would do this!

Only yeah, he totally could.

Shawn was his best friend, but this was going to be a long five days. Either Shawn was just really bored, or (more likely) he was working an angle and there was something of interest in Paris that Gus wasn't aware of. He just hoped whatever it was didn't come back to bite them too badly. They wouldn't have SBPD backup while out of country, after all.

***

A couple of hours later, Shawn and Gus made their way onto the airplane, Shawn flirting shamelessly with the (admittedly cute) flight attendant as soon as they boarded. Gus had to say he was impressed by how thoroughly she fended off Shawn's advances. Juliet must have rebuffed Shawn pretty badly this week for him to be flirting like this, though. Gus was _not_ getting involved.

He settled into his seat—a window seat next to a guy who looked ready to pop in his headphones and ignore the world for the trip. _Nice_ , thought Gus, _some peace and quiet at last_. He nearly groaned aloud when his best friend appeared next to the guy.

“Hi, I'm Shawn Spencer, psychic detective. The guy sitting beside you is my partner, Dr. Watson. You know,” Shawn said conspiratorily, leaning over into the guy's space, “I don't want to embarrass him, but he's got a bad case of _malignalitaloptereosis_ , very contagious. I've already been exposed, so I'd be willing to trade seats if you like.” He pointed to a seat a few rows back, next to a mom and a kid that would likely be screaming within the next few hours.

The guy sitting next to Gus looked back and forth, clearly weighing the detriments of each situation and giving Gus scrutinizing glances before standing.

“Yeah, ok. Thanks, dude.”

“You're welcome!” Shawn grinned and waved at the guy before plopping down beside Gus, turning to speak to him. “Dude, this is going to be _stupéfiant_! _Belles filles_ , _cuisine française_. Maybe you can try some of those espadrilles.”

“I think you mean _escargot_ , Shawn. And I'm not eating slimy snails.”

“I've heard it both ways. And come on, you know you always want to try fancy stuff like that.”

“And since when do you speak French?”

“I picked up a bit a few years back when I worked a few months at a _fromagerie_ in Venice.”

“Venice is in Italy, Shawn.”

“I know. But the _fromager_ was _very_ French—spoke nothing but. And see? You need me. You don't speak a lick of French, do you?”

“I came prepared, Shawn.”

“What, you got one of those little touristy phrasebooks? Those really won't do you much good except in very specific situations, you know.”

That was exactly what Gus had done—the book was safely stored in his carry-on—but he wasn't about to admit that to Shawn. He sniffed and turned to the window, choosing to ignore his friend. He knew he couldn't keep it up for long, but he had to at least _try_ to keep on task and not be dragged into whatever ridiculousness Shawn had dug up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next chapter should be posted by this weekend at the latest.
> 
> Kudos and comments are hugely appreciated, particularly constructive criticism.


	2. Superheroes?! In Paris?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the obvious gap in technology between the show and what's presented here. I need Shawn to have a proper smartphone, okay? Remember, this is ultimately crack.
> 
> Enjoy!

Once they were in the air, Shawn pulled out his phone, flipping through photos and video clips that he must have downloaded before leaving Santa Barbara. Gus couldn't help glancing at the screen; the way Shawn held it was practically begging him to take an interest. Images of a girl in red spandex with black spots and a guy in a black leather catsuit played on it—parkouring through what was obviously Paris, fighting absurd-looking beings of all sorts, attending an awards ceremony. What? Gus had no idea what he was seeing.

“Shawn, _what_ are you watching?”

“I thought you'd never ask, buddy. See, these guys are called Ladybug and Chat Noir. Apparently, they're some kind of local superheroes in Paris. Only, the media at large seem to be intent on covering up the whole thing, probably because they've got some bad guy styling himself “Hawk Moth” that they can't seem to stop. Can you believe what a lame bad-guy name that is? Is he a hawk or is he a moth? Anyway, this Hawk Moth dude totally trashes big sections of the city on the regular, from what I can tell, then these two stop whatever random citizen he's turned into his puppet and fix everything back up like nothing ever happened. Of course, I'm getting most of this from random social media posts, so there's a possibility this is all some weird publicity stunt, but. . . .”

“So you're telling me the reason you want to go to Paris is to check out some improbable superhero story you read on social media?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Gus. I'm going to Paris to _meet_ some superheroes. I bet I can get their autographs. How cool would that be?” Shawn waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

“Shawn, I can't do this right now. I'm going to Paris to _work_. For my _real_ job.” And ignoring Shawn's protests, Gus turned to stare out the window at the clouds passing below. He tried to focus on the schedule for the conference, rehashing which events he wanted to attend and which networking opportunities he could take advantage of.

As much as he tried to concentrate, though, he found his attention returning to Shawn's hijinks. (He was still scrolling through blog posts and pictures of the Parisian duo.) This was insane! Although meeting actual superheroes would be extremely cool, if such a thing were possible. And knowing Shawn, even if he was off-base about the details, he was probably onto something.

Sometimes that was more infuriating than it would be if he were wrong.

***

Shawn continued scrolling through the articles and pictures he had found, making observations and cataloging details. He kept going back to a site called the “Ladyblog.” It was all in French, so he was honestly only picking up about two-thirds of the commentary in the videos, but he had run the articles through Google Translate and found a wealth of minutiae that added up to something significant. He just couldn't quite piece it all together yet.

He needed to get “boots on the ground” as it were—to see these heroes in action, smell what they smell, feel what they feel. He also needed to run his findings by Gus. His best friend was a font of unexpected trivia, which was often instrumental in helping Shawn make sense of the facts in front of him.

That would have to wait, though. Sometime during the flight, Gus's sulk had turned into sleep. It was predictable; he nearly always fell asleep on trips if he wasn't driving. Point is, at the moment, he was dead to the world, slumped over and drooling on Shawn's shoulder.

The flight attendant came by to offer snacks. Shawn's half-hearted attempts at flirtation were somewhat lessened in effect by the fact that he had another guy cuddled up to him at the moment. Ah well, it wasn't like he could really make himself commit to the effort anyway. Every time he tried, his thoughts wandered back to a certain blonde detective whose fire, confidence, and compassion had captured his heart . . . even if he wasn't quite willing to admit it yet.

He did order a pineapple juice from the flight attendant, though. Delicious flavor sparked better cognition, he argued to himself.

Eventually, boredom overcame his self-control, and since they were now free to move about the cabin, he did so. He wandered up and down the aisle, making friends, solving little mysteries—mostly only in his head, although he did help a sweet old lady find her glasses. (They were on her head. She gave him a handful of hot cinnamon candy as a reward. Well . . . the thought was nice; he'd just pass those on to Gus.) He eventually sat back down to play twenty questions with the pair of teenagers in the seat across the aisle from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Constructive criticism is appreciated.
> 
> The next chapter should be up by Tuesday at the latest.


	3. Gel Pen Hearts & Screams in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you. And we finally get some more MLB involvement. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, I know. It should be an 80's movie reference. But even Shawn has to appreciate the classics at least a bit, right?

After nearly twelve hours in the air, they finally landed in Paris. It was around five o'clock local time, which Shawn was sure Gus had intentionally planned to give himself time to rest and recover from the jet lag before the conference began the next day. Shawn confirmed that Gus had reservations at Le Grand Paris Hotel before splitting off to explore the city a bit. Gus would take at least an hour to unpack—he had to hang up his dress clothes and arrange everything else neatly in the drawers. He had done it at every hotel since their fourth grade trip to San Francisco. Shawn would happily live out of his suitcase for the entire trip and thus had no need to waste time on such frivolities.

Shawn wandered the streets for a while before ending up in a small _boulangerie,_ purchasing pineapple and coconut macarons from a cute teenage girl at the counter. He paused at the counter for a few minutes after completing his purchase, chatting with her. The shop was quiet enough she could afford to talk a bit. He took in her blue-black pigtails, her turned-up nose, her bright blue eyes, her cheerful smile. There was just something about her that niggled in the back of his mind.

“Not to sound like that creepy older guy who hits on teenagers—promise I don't mean it that way—but you look so familiar. Were you in, like, a movie or something? _Roman Holiday_ , maybe?” She giggled incredulously.

“Um, I'm flattered, but no. I have a friend who models, and I've gotten dragged into doing a couple of pictures with him. But otherwise, no.” She pulled a magazine out from behind the counter, some kind of French fashion publication, it looked like. Not that Shawn paid much mind to the print, but that's what the pictures looked like.

She turned to a page that had obviously been looked at numerous times before, which she offered for him to look at. The niggling in the back of Shawn's mind grew louder, although he still couldn't place why. “Gabriel” was scrawled across the top of the page in some hoity-toity font, below which was a picture of the girl in front of him (Marinette, she had introduced herself as) in a pretty blue sundress with a blond-haired boy gazing at her with a sunny smile (his clothes were a bit much for Shawn's taste, but even he had to admit, the guy had great hair). She was blushing prettily in the picture. The blush was matched exquisitely in real life as she seemed to remember at that moment that there were little hearts drawn all over the picture in pink gel pen.

“Um, yeah. Th-that's my friend Adrien. We go to school together. He's p-pretty well-known around here, but not me,” she stammered. Not knowing how to respond to that, and trying to save her any more embarrassment (he could be sensitive when he chose to be!), Shawn changed the subject.

“So, I've been seeing a lot online about this Ladybug and Chat Noir. What do you think? You actually live in the city where all this is going down. Have you actually seen them? Met them?” Shawn noted that she suddenly looked discomfited and wouldn't meet his eyes as she replied.

“What? Oh, um. I mean, th-they're heroes. There's a statue in their honor in the park down the road and everything. And, um, Chat Noir saved me, once. But I usually try to stay away from all of that. It can get pretty dangerous. My friend Alya's the one who goes out trying to meet them and all.”

That rang a bell in Shawn's mind for sure. “Wait, Alya, like Alya Césaire? The girl who writes the Ladyblog?”

Marinette looked directly at him then, seeming surprised that he recognized the name. “Yes, you've read it?”

“She's only the best source of information on Ladybug and Chat Noir that I've found. Of course, I've read it!”

Marinette smiled, seeming pleased at her friend's receiving recognition and praise. At that point, the bell over the door signaled another customer entering the _boulangerie_ , and she turned her attention to serving them. Shawn took his macarons and wandered out into the Paris evening, munching as he went. Gus was going to have to try one of these . . . if he had any left by the time he reached the hotel.

***

Gus had given up on hearing from Shawn around nine o'clock local time. By that point, he had unpacked everything, gotten food, gone over the itinerary for the next day again, and reached the point of utter exhaustion. The time difference was something else, and he needed his sleep. Shawn would turn up in his own time; Gus wasn't too worried about him. Worried what he might get into, perhaps, but he would deal with that tomorrow.

Several hours later, Gus awoke, still weary but unable to sleep. He figured that about the time his body clock adjusted to this new timezone, he would be returning home. He froze in the bed when he noticed the faint sounds of another person's breathing in the room. No one should have been able to get in. Was it a burglar?

He paused for a moment, then threw off the covers, grabbed the television remote (to use as a weapon, he reasoned), flicked on the bedside lamp, and stood in one swift motion. Shawn would later claim he screamed like a girl, although Gus would deny any such thing. There was a pile of blankets on the sofa that stirred when the lights came on.

The adrenaline rush left Gus as Shawn emerged from the bundle, blinking blearily. Gus sat down hard on the edge of the bed.

“Gus, buddy, what's going on? And why are you holding the remote?”

“You scared me to death, Shawn. How'd you get in my room?”

“I told the girl at the desk we were honeymooning and I'd gone to get ice for you and left my key in the room. She made me a new one. Really sweet girl. Very supportive. Told me all about her girlfriend. She sent up some bubbly and chocolate strawberries; I had her put them on the room tab.” Gus's attention turned to the unopened bottle of champagne in a bucket of mostly-melted ice and the half-eaten box of chocolate-covered strawberries on the side table. He felt his stress levels rising again.

“Shawn, this room is paid for on the company account. They're monitoring everything that goes on it. You can't just add luxury items like that. What's my boss going to think?”

“Gus, don't be exactly two-thirds of a sunken soufflé. Try the strawberries; they're delish.” Gus tsked before picking up a strawberry and taking a big bite.

“Mm, you're right. These are pretty good.”

“I know, right?”

“So Shawn, what are you going to be doing all day while I'm at the conference?”

“I'm gonna find some superheroes. I'll bring you back their autographs if I can. Hey, check this out.” Shawn turned on the television, flipping to a local news station. After a minute, coverage turned to an akuma attack on the other side of town earlier that evening. The two watched shaky footage of the two local heroes swooping in to save the day. Gus nodded contemplatively.

“That is pretty cool. It really looks like CG, though.”

“C-whatsit? Don't be ridiculous.”

“Computer graphics, Shawn. It's how they do the special effects in movies. A lot of what those two are doing in the video doesn't seem to follow the usual laws of physics. I don't get how that's supposed to work.”

“Well,” Shawn yawned, “I guess we'll figure it out in the morning. I'm gonna get some more sleep.” He curled back up on the sofa and soon began to snore lightly. Gus also lay back down but found himself unable to fall back asleep. Tomorrow—or technically today now—was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had as much fun with this chapter as I did. Please let me know what you think and if anything needs improvement. I truly appreciate all of your input. Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Eureka!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The enthusiastic support this fic has received has just blown me away. You guys rock! Have another chapter. Enjoy! :D

The next day was comparatively uneventful—at least by Shawn and Gus's usual standards. That evening, they met back at the restaurant attached to the hotel to compare notes. Gus picked at his _Coq au vin_ while he listened halfheartedly to Shawn detail his walking tour of Paris.

While Shawn had been out enjoying the sights, _he_ had been sitting in numerous (boring) lectures and networking with others in the business. He loved his work, truly he did, but it was hard to be excited about antifungals and mucus reducers when your colleagues were proudly extolling the virtues of their own products—life-saving cancer drugs and heart medications and the like. Sometimes, Gus felt like he got no respect.

His interest was piqued, however, when Shawn began speaking of the akuma attack he had barely missed earlier that afternoon. Apparently, he had heard the commotion and seen a bunch of people running away. Naturally, he ran in the direction they were running away from, only to hear a loud crash, followed by a cheer and a wave of pink light washing over the city. Then he saw two figures he had only ever before seen on a screen darting away over the rooftops in opposite directions from each other.

“So you're saying these superheroes are definitely real?” Gus asked, needing clarification on what _exactly_ Shawn had seen.

“Sure seems like it, buddy. I wish I had gotten a closer look. Shoot, I wish _you_ had gotten a look; maybe you would have noticed something I didn't. But it sure looked real, and the reactions of the people in the area once I got there sure seemed real. There was even a police presence taking statements.”

“Shawn, please tell me you didn't.”

“Of course I did. Who do you take me for? They lapped up the whole foreign police psychic thing. Told me everything they knew.”

“And?” Gus prompted.

“And it's basically just what we already picked up, only with official confirmation. Oh, and get this, almost every time, Ladybug and Chat Noir head off in opposite directions, almost never together. With that and some of their interactions on the videos I've seen. . . . But then it seems like Chat Noir is totally head over heels for Ladybug. I just don't know. I'm still missing something.” Shawn sighed, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration.

“You'll figure it out. You've still got a few days.” Gus couldn't believe he was encouraging his friend, but it did sound like he had found something credible in these superheroes, at the very least. Even if it _was_ a bit much to come all the way to Paris to investigate them when they were clearly working _with_ local law enforcement, not against them. He couldn't quite figure out what Shawn's endgame was here.

“Aww, thanks, buddy. I knew you cared,” Shawn replied before drawing breath to go off on another tangent of his observations from the day.

***

The next morning, Gus was already up and gone before Shawn awoke. Not that Shawn was concerned. He knew his friend was just downstairs in the hotel's conference area—again listening to boring lectures and talking with boring people. Booooring.

Shawn yawned and stretched languidly before rolling off the sofa, his bare feet luxuriating in the plush hotel carpet. This place was nice.

Not feeling like going out for breakfast, he ordered room service (Belgian waffles with fresh strawberries and lots of whipped cream), putting it on the room tab. As he ate, he scrolled back through the Ladyblog. He stopped to watch an exclusive interview Ladybug had given to the Ladyblogger, Alya Césaire.

As he watched Ladybug's interactions with the young journalist, it finally clicked. He wondered how he had possibly missed it before, actually. Her appearance, her speech patterns, the way she treated Alya more friendly than would be normal to treat even a sympathetic journalist. Of course! Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl he met at that _boulangerie_ , was Ladybug!

“Eureka! That's it!” he proclaimed, standing and gesturing excitedly before sitting down with a sigh, slightly embarrassed at himself. It was kind of weird, doing that sort of thing without an audience. He wished Gus were here to share this with. Or Juliet. Shoot, he'd even take Lassie right about now.

He began scrolling back through other pictures and videos, each confirming his deduction more completely. He had suspicions about the identity of Chat Noir, as well, but couldn't quite confirm those, especially since he had never interacted with Marinette's friend directly. You can only tell so much from pictures, even fancy modeling ones.

Just as Shawn was shoveling the last over-sized bite of waffle into his mouth, his phone started ringing. It was Gus. Shawn answered semi-coherently around his mouthful of food.

“Gush, you'w ne'r guess wat I foud oud!”

“What?” Gus sounded irritated. “You know what, never mind. Shawn, why is my boss calling me from Santa Barbara about five-hundred francs in additional charges on my company card?! I _know_ I didn't put _anything_ on it besides the room. What did you—”

The line went silent for a moment before a thud came through as though it had been dropped. Shawn began hearing screams coming over the line—not Gus. Then a voice that sounded like Gus, only not quite, came through distantly.

“I am Tinea! You will learn to respect the dangers of fungus! Respect pharmaceutical reps!” the voice proclaimed.

A shock of horror, tinged (to his shame) with a slight hint of excitement, shot through Shawn as he realized what must have happened. In his frustration, Gus would have been the perfect victim for an akuma to take over. Shawn rushed out of the hotel room without bothering to change out of his pineapple-print pajamas.

“Hang on, buddy! I'm coming,” he said, rushing through the hallways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to come together. Sorry for the cliffhanger ending. We all know everything's going to be okay, right? I should get the next chapter up by sometime this weekend. Thanks again for reading!


	5. The Akuma's in the Bag and the Cat's Out of It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who's been supporting this story. You guys are amazing!
> 
> Have another chapter. Warnings for mild mentions of grossness during the akuma attack. And the plot begins to thicken (as much as any of my plots ever do, especially ones as crackish as this). Enjoy!

The conference room was in chaos by the time Shawn arrived. Tables were overturned. People were rushing about in confusion and fear, many of them scratching red, itchy patches on their skin. And in the center of the room loomed a blue-skinned being with nearly comic design. The only thing remotely recognizable about Gus at the moment was the wheeled carry-on bag that he kept his things in during the day, although it now had a hose attached and was shooting out globs of nasty green stuff that was making people red and itchy. Eew.

Shawn had seen enough videos of akuma fights by now to know that the bag was probably where the akuma was.

About that time, Ladybug and Chat Noir arrived on the scene.

“Well, this is a cat-astrophe,” Chat Noir announced, surveying the scene from a somehow still-standing lectern.

“Really, kitty? Not the time! Try to figure out where the akuma is,” Ladybug ( _Marinette!_ Shawn's mind interjected) protested, getting up close to “Tinea” to try to distract him from the civilians who were still fleeing while she figured out how to stop him.

Shawn figured he could help with that. “Ladybug,” he yelled. “The akuma's in his bag!”

She nodded in reply, working in nearly-seamless tandem with Chat Noir to quickly defeat the akuma and return Gus to himself. As he watched them work together, Shawn became convinced of three things. One, Chat Noir was Marinette's crush, Adrien Agreste. (He'd been eighty-seven percent sure of that before, but it was nice to be certain.) Two, Chat Noir was utterly and irrevocably in love with Ladybug. And three, these two idiots had absolutely no idea about each other's secret identities.

That would not do at all. Shawn was a romantic, or so he liked to envision himself. He was not _about_ to leave Paris in a few days without fixing this. An idea began formulating in his mind, even as the battle wound down—Ladybug crafting some impressive Rube Goldberg machine from a dropped lanyard, the sprinkler system, and the stapler her Lucky Charm gave her, allowing Chat Noir to Cataclysm the bag and release the akuma.

Shawn approached as a wave of pink washed over everything, repairing the damage done from the akuma attack. Ladybug knelt beside a shaken and confused Gus, hand on his shoulder offering comfort. Chat Noir stood over them, gazing down at Ladybug with undisguised affection.

“Hey, man,” Shawn said, walking up easily beside Chat Noir. “Thanks for helping my buddy, Gus.”

“It's our job,” Chat replied with a shrug and a show-stopping smile. “But also, we're glad to help.” Just then his ring beeped audibly, only two pads remaining on the pawprint. “Unfortunately, we can't stay to _chat_. It's time for us to _bug out_.” He looked meaningfully at Ladybug, who stood, her earrings also beeping now.

Ladybug disappeared down a back hallway in the hotel, clearly knowing the place well. Chat Noir obviously meant to do the same, but Shawn held him back with a hand on his shoulder.

“Look, I know you don't have time to talk now. But meet me at André's ice cream cart today at four-thirty, okay? It's about Ladybug.”

Chat Noir looked suspicious and concerned, but after meeting Shawn's gaze for a moment, he nodded his affirmation before darting off through an open window.

***

Gus sat on the floor of the conference room, confusion and a strange sense of exhaustion making his head spin. He remembered the angry call from his boss, his own irritated call to Shawn, something dark flying in his peripheral vision, then nothing.

The next thing he knew, he was slumped on the floor with Paris's own superheroes bending over him reassuring him that everything was okay and that it was all over now. Which definitely meant that _something_ had _not_ been okay before; he just couldn't remember _what_.

As he sat there collecting his thoughts, Shawn walked over, still wearing the ridiculous pink, pineapple-print pajamas he had gone to bed in.

“Shawn, what are you wearing?” _Seriously, that's the first thing you think to say, Gus?_ he asked himself.

Ignoring the question, Shawn reached down to help him to his feet. “Hey, buddy, feeling better now?” he asked.

“What happened? I don't remember anything.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you're related to Dr. Bruce Banner?”

“The Hulk? You're not making any sense, Shawn.” Maybe he'd passed out and hit his head hard enough to give himself a concussion? He didn't _feel_ concussed, though. Just confused—not that that was anything abnormal with Shawn around.

“Well you see, you got turned into a big blue rage monster that gave everyone fungus, then two teenagers wearing super suits rushed in to save the day. . . . Actually, it was kind of epic.”

“Shawn, there's no way that happened.”

“It totally did, Gus. It's probably all over the Internet by now. But more importantly, get this.” Shawn looked around to be sure no one was listening in. “I figured out Ladybug and Chat Noir's secret identities. And they're totally in love, only they don't know it because their secret identities make it all weird and confusing. So we're going to help them out, and I need you to help me.”

Gus's mind whirled with the infodump he had just received, taking a moment to process before the most immediately significant piece of information stood out with clarity.

“Nu-uh, Shawn. No way are we getting involved in foreign superheroes' romantic relationships. You're having enough trouble with your own, without getting involved in anyone else's.”

“Gus, we have to.”

“No, Shawn, we don't.” What followed was a minute-and-a-half argument consisting entirely of gestures and half-formed mumbles that would have been incomprehensible to an outside observer before Gus spit out, “Fine, but you're buying us ice cream afterwards.”

“Of course, buddy,” Shawn replied with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. I hope you had fun with this chapter. I know it doesn't seem possible, but we only have probably a couple more chapters left. The next chapter should go up by Tuesday at the latest.


	6. Matchmaking and Sweetheart's Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. Last chapter, other than a short epilogue. If this were a serious story, Shawn would totally figure out Hawk Moth and help bring him in. But this is crack, so have Shawn matchmaking instead. Enjoy!

Despite the akuma attack at the conference center, business returned to usual with surprising ease. Shawn amused himself by pointing out the visitors to Paris—they were the ones shooting worried glances everywhere and looking bewildered that everyone else wasn't concerned. The locals just shrugged and went about their business.

The police arrived shortly after Ladybug and Chat Noir's departure. They set about taking statements and making sure everyone was all right, treating it all as unremarkably mundane. A lieutenant Roger Raincomprix recognized Shawn and came up to greet him.

“Detective Spencer, it's a surprise to see you on the scene so quickly!”

“Roger, Roger, the spirits warned me that something was amiss here. I would have called to warn you, but I barely had time to make my own way here. This Eagle-Butterfly guy is wily and unpredictable,” Shawn replied.

“Shawn, you literally slept in a room upstairs last night. And it's Hawk Moth,” Gus retorted. He could not believe Shawn was doing this. . . . Except, he totally could. This was _exactly_ the sort of stunt Shawn would pull.

“I've heard—”

“No, you really haven't. Excuse us, officer,” Gus added. “I'm feeling a bit lightheaded, and I think I should go lie down. We're in room 221, if you need statements from us later, but I don't believe we have anything to add beyond what anyone else here could tell you. I know I don't remember anything at all.”

“Of course,” Lieutenant Raincomprix replied. “Detective Spencer, always a pleasure. If you get any leads, please let us know.”

“I will. The spirits are fickle, prone to frolicking about like the fawn in _Milo and Otis_ , but I'll let you know if they reveal anything useful.”

With that, Shawn and Gus left the conference area, Gus to lie down (he really _was_ feeling drained) and Shawn to put his plans into action. Or well, to get dressed, laze about, enjoy the sights a bit, and _then_ put his plans into action. There wasn't much he could actually _do_ until the kids got off from school, after all.

Having superheroes in high school complicated things. He could only imagine how challenging it was for _them_.

***

Catching Marinette as she dashed home from school was the second step in Shawn's plan. (Getting Chat Noir to agree to meet had been the first. Incidentally, getting Gus to help was step 1.5, although it was something of an understood that Gus would help with whatever mad scheme Shawn got into.) Shawn ended up literally catching her as she stumbled over her own feet rounding the corner. Okay, he understood a bit better how people hadn't figured out her secret identity yet.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, just who I was looking for.” He helped her stand and quickly picked out a few tidbits of information to help convince her. He put his fingers up to his head theatrically.

“You see, although it didn't come up in our previous conversation, I am, in fact, a psychic. And I've been getting something, something very strong about you. Several somethings, in fact. Pens, paper, essays? No—drawing! You draw a lot. And something sharp, piercing, cloth, designs, patterns, weaving—sewing! You make your own clothes!”

“That's amazing. You're completely correct. But I don't understand why you would be looking for me because of that,” Marinette replied, a polite but confused smile on her face.

“Because that's not all I'm getting,” Shawn answered, gesturing wildly. “I'm seeing a bridge, cold, sweet, crunchy cones, padlocks, true love.”

“The _Pont des Arts_ bridge where André sells ice cream?”

“Yes! That must be it! And something else. A boy, great blond hair, nice clothes—your friend! Adrien. And a time? Six plus three minus five.”

“Four o'clock?”

“Yes, but there's more. Th-thr-th-thirty! Four-thirty! You need to meet your friend on the bridge at four-thirty.”

Marinette looked a bit stunned for a moment before blinking and pulling out her phone to check the time.

“Oh no, I've only got twenty minutes until then. That's not nearly enough time to get ready!”

“You're right,” Shawn replied. “We don't have time for that. Let's go!” He ran off in the direction of the bridge, trusting that Marinette would follow.

***

The two of them arrived at the bridge with minutes to spare. Shawn really was quite impressed by Marinette's clumsiness; at this point, he was truly wondering whether it was all just an act or whether her suit granted her some kind of extra coordination she didn't naturally have. In any case, they arrived in one piece just as Chat Noir landed on the other end of the bridge.

“Princess, what are you doing here?” Chat Noir asked after approaching them, seeing that Marinette was present as well as Shawn. “And you,” he turned to Shawn, a dark look shadowing his face, “what you were saying early sounded kind of threatening. Why did you want to talk to me about Ladybug?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no threats intended. Sorry if it sounded that way,” Shawn answered before Marinette could speak up. “Look, I'm just going to give it to you two straight, because seeing you two like this is killing me. You,” he pointed to Chat Noir, “are in love with her.” He pointed to Marinette.

Both teenagers started to protest, but Shawn put up a finger to silence them before continuing.

“Ah, ah. Let me finish. Because she is Ladybug.” Stunned silence met this proclamation. Shawn carried on. “And you,” he pointed to Marinette, “really, _really_ like him,” pointing back to Chat, “because he's Adrien Agreste, your crush. Now would you two lovebirds _please_ get your act together and just talk this out? Seriously, this is just ridiculous! It's like some kind of crazy, I don't know, love square or something.” He swung his hands in big circles for dramatic emphasis, not that anyone noticed besides André, who was waiting with ice cream for the happy couple (Shawn hoped) just out of earshot.

By this point, Marinette and Chat Noir had clearly tuned Shawn out, staring deeply into each other's eyes like they held all the answers in the world. After several seconds, _something_ seemed to have been communicated, because Chat Noir stepped over, scooped Marinette up in his arms, and vaulted up and away over the rooftops.

Shawn watched them go, feeling conflicted. That had gone _way_ more quickly than he'd anticipated. He'd had this whole thing planned out with ice cream and flowers and everything. Maybe even a romantic carriage ride. But, they were gone now. He could only hope that they would work things out.

“Monsieur, do you still want your ice cream?” André asked, just as Gus rushed up carrying a bouquet of roses. Shawn had arranged in advance to have André prepare a sweetheart's ice cream . . . only Marinette and Chat Noir had left to sort things out before they got to eat it. Shawn shrugged, accepting the ice cream with its two little spoons sticking out.

“Thanks! Hey Gus, do you think you could pay the man for this?” he said, walking off down the bridge.

A dumbfounded Gus stared after him for a moment before slapping a handful of francs down on the stall's counter and rushing off after Shawn, still holding the bouquet.

“Wait up! Shawn, what happened? Where are Ladybug and Chat Noir? Shawn!”

“Don't be a flailing pigeon, Gus. Ladybug and Chat Noir know everything now, and they went off to talk it out like grown-ups. Here, have some of this ice cream. It's delicious!”

“I am not eating some true-love ice cream with you, Shawn. You know André's ice cream is a local legend, right?”

“Gus. It's ridiculous to think that eating ice cream could possibly change our feelings. You already know that I love you.”

“ _Tsk_ , give me some of that,” Gus replied, grabbing for a spoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I have been blown away by the support and involvement of everyone reading this story. You guys are awesome! Thanks so much!


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys. We're at the epilogue. Thanks again to everyone who has supported this story! You guys have been truly amazing. Enjoy!

Gus settled into his seat on the airplane, more than ready to go home. It had been quite the trip, but he had to admit (at least to himself) that it _had_ been sort of fun. He wasn't sure yet whether he'd actually tell Shawn that, though.

Unsurprisingly, not much later, Shawn scared off Gus's seatmate and took over the seat beside him. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a plain white napkin with something scribbled on it.

“You'll never guess who stopped by while you were in the bathroom at the airport,” Shawn announced.

“Who?” Gus asked suspiciously.

“A bug and a cat dropped in. Hey, that sounds like the start to a joke! Anyhow, Ladybug and Chat Noir said they wanted to thank us for bringing them together and that they were happily a couple now. They even gave us their autographs. See?”

He shoved the napkin at Gus. Sure enough, scribbled on the napkin were what _looked_ like Ladybug and Chat Noir's official autographs, complete with a cute ladybug and paw print scribbled beside the names. Gus wasn't convinced, though.

“Shawn, you saw that they were a couple now on that big press event last night. It was the only thing on TV. And I bet you forged these autographs on an airport napkin while I was gone, didn't you?”

“Gus, don't be a disbelieving disbelieveypants. These are real.”

“Look, there's even the airport logo on the corner of the napkin.”

“Because they signed it while they were here. They didn't bring paper. No pockets on those tight suits, you know? But I grabbed the napkin from the airport café and asked them for their autographs, just for you.”

“If they were at the airport, why didn't I see them? You know it would create a huge stir if they were there.”

“They wanted to see you, but they were in a hurry. They dodged security and had to leave fast before things got too crazy.”

“ _Tsk_. You really think I'm going to believe _that_? You must be out of your damn mind.”

“Oh, hey look. I got an e-mail from Jules. Looks like they've got a case waiting for us back home.”

“Don't change the subject, Shawn.” Some things never changed. But somehow, Gus was okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have had half as much fun with this story as I have. It's been quite the trip, especially for a story that was *supposed* to be just a goofy one-shot. Thanks for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Wait for It!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27883178) by [Butterflies_and_Ladybugs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterflies_and_Ladybugs/pseuds/Butterflies_and_Ladybugs)




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